


The Dark Duke of Dragonstone

by TheRedWulf



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Regency, Regency Romance, plot holes, stansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-30 21:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19412062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedWulf/pseuds/TheRedWulf
Summary: AU - In which the Dark Duke of Dragonstone submits to a matrimonial fate.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> My longest fic yet, though only my second ever. It is already completed, so I will upload as I edit/revise. A bit of Stansa regency fluff and nonsense (with a little angst). Again, I don't fancy myself a writer, but I enjoy fiddling with the characters. This fic is un-beta'd so I apologize for any errors.
> 
> This is for my fellow Stansa shippers #DukeStannis
> 
> Note, this is rated E for later chapters in which I will embarrass myself by attempting to write smut/lemons.

“Come now brother, surely you can acquiesce to one dance” Robert’s booming belly laugh echoed in the crowded Tyrell ballroom. This, of course, only increased the curious stares the brothers were receiving, most already watching to see what Stannis’ rare appearance in society would bring. 

It was no secret that Lord Stannis Baratheon, Duke of Dragonstone and brother to King Robert had no love for society, the ton or its indulgences. They called him the “Dark Duke of Dragonstone” since it was said that he had never smiled, even as a boy. He was often accused of being dour, cold and aloof. Much the opposite of his elder brother who over indulged in any area he possibly could. This much was evident at the very least by their mere appearances; both born with the great Baratheon height and broad shoulders, Stannis’ body was lean and strong from years in the Navy while Robert carried far too much weight around his midsection. This of course was his reward for a sedentary lifestyle filled with alcohol and women. 

“Thank you, but no” Stannis replied coolly, glaring at his brother and doing his best to ignore the stares. He resented having to attend the party to begin with, but being that is was Robert’s eldest son’s engagement party, he was obligated to make an appearance. He was a slave to duty. Joffrey, now four and twenty, had been ensnared by Lady Margaery Tyrell’s beauty and wealth, and would soon marry. A fate, Stannis inwardly sighed, he was still lucky enough to avoid. Soon, however, he would be obligated to do his duty to Dragonstone by providing an heir. A legitimate heir.

“What about Lady--”

“Robert” Stannis interrupted his brother’s slurred speech. “Stop.”

“You’re always such a miser, Stannis” Robert boomed. “They’re women, not vipers. You’ll have to pick one soon enough. Hell have you even bed a woman? You’re eight and thirty---”

“Oh I’m so sorry” Robert’s tirade was interrupted when a young lady stumbled into Stannis’ side. “Please forgive me, My Lord.”

“My Lady” Stannis reached an arm to steady her, his gloved hand cupping her elbow. “Are you well?” Gods he hoped she wasn’t drunk. The only thing worse than women was drunk women.

She looked up at him then, stunning him with her unexpected beauty. While she was tall for a woman, her head only reached his chin. Her figure slim but curvy, hidden by a surprisingly modest dress that even went as far as to have long sleeves. Her hair was a carefully styled riot of fiery red curls, a contrast to her porcelain skin and vibrant blue eyes. She was, in all, quite breathtaking. 

“I think I might have just twisted my ankle” she frowned, speaking to him and not sparing a glance for the King beside him. “Would you be so kind as to escort me to that bench there so I may rest it, My Lord?” she motioned to the benches along the wall behind them. 

“Why if it isn’t Lady Sansa Stark” Robert smiled, his eyes boldly raking over her. “My girl, you are the image of your Mother.”

“Your Grace” she gave a curtsey, favoring her ankle of course, before turning back to Stannis expectantly. 

He cleared his throat, not foolish enough to not know when an instruction was given, “Allow me” he offered his arm. She took with a smile, her gloved fingers settling over the wool of his black jacket as he guided her through the crush. He helped her to gracefully sit on the settee and she deftly smoothed her skirt before looking up at him with that stunning smile. 

“Now then,” she started. “If you stay a few moments more, the King will be lost in conversation with Lady Gilbert and you will be able to escape the conversation entirely” she smirked. 

He did his best to not let his jaw drop in shock, “Did you...fabricate an injury to--”

“Rescue you? Oh yes” she laughed softly, motioning to the bench beside her, an invitation he was too shocked to notice. “I’ll not apologize, you looked truly horrified.”

“I was but..” he cleared his throat. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough” she replied. “It was not my intention to embarrass you.”

“No, you have not, Lady Sansa. I fear that is my brother’s doing” he stated. 

“My father is the only one I have ever seen rein him in,” she said with a sad smile. 

“I am sorry for your loss” he said, remembering it was some years ago that her parents had died in a carriage accident on the King’s Road. This left her and her elder brother Robb to care for 3 younger children and a huge estate, all quite suddenly.

“Thank you, My Lord” she nodded, glancing behind him to the king, now indulging in a friendly conversation with Lady Gilbert. “See, all forgotten. If you’re lucky you might be able to escape the party all together.”

“One should be so fortunate” he quipped and she laughed once more. He couldn’t remember ever making a woman laugh and surely never twice in the same conversation. 

“Would if I could, I cannot abide the crush” she admitted. 

“Nor I” he sighed. “I do believe I owe you a debt.”

“Not at all, My Lord,” she said. “I am happy to have been of help and to have made your acquaintance.”

“Likewise, Lady Sansa” he bowed stiffly feeling quite out of his element. Perhaps if someone were to fire a cannon at him, he would be able to think more clearly as he had in such military maneuvers. “Have a good evening” he weakly said.

“You as well” she smiled, watching him go. He wasn’t what she’d expected, knowing both King Robert and Lord Renly from society events. The middle brother was not flamboyant like the younger or a letch like the elder; he was obviously quite uncomfortable in society, if not terribly shy then just reserved. He was slightly taller than Robert, his frame lean but strong, she could tell when she had taken his arm. His all-black attire was impeccably tailored, not a wrinkle in sight, emphasizing his strong, chiseled jaw and dark blue eyes. His hair was already mostly grey, perhaps receding a bit at the top, but none of it took away from his pleasing appearance. 

Handsome, she decided, though not in a traditional sense. No, Stannis Baratheon was not a boy, he was a man, honorable and just. A rarity in this society. She was glad to have made his acquaintance, even if she had taken a great risk stumbling into him, she was glad she did. She should like to see him again, perhaps even one day entice him to dance. Would the Dark Duke ever care to dance? She could only hope.

For now, she would watch the room until her elder brother Robb and his new wife Jeyne decided to go home, which she hoped wasn’t too long from now. 

“Sansa, Sansa!” Rickon’s voice echoed in the hall as she heard his approaching footsteps. “You’ve got flowers!” he bounded into the room, only his legs visible as he carried the large bouquet of stunning white blooms. 

“Oh my,” she laughed. “Set them here please” she cleared a space on her vanity, marvelling at the beautiful winter roses. “They’re lovely.”

“A card too,” Rickon handed her the slightly wrinkled envelope.

“Why thank you kind sir for the delivery” she kissed the crown of his head, attempting to smooth the auburn curls. “Back to your lessons” she smiled and sent him back to his tutor. At only six years of age and the youngest Stark, he was still attending lessons every day, much to his disappointment. 

They had all been devastated at the loss of their parents. But while the younger children cried and yelled, Sansa and her older brother Robb suddenly found themselves thrust into the role of parents, responsible for their family’s well being. Fortunately Robb had been learning under Father for years and was ready to take on the care of their Winterfell Estate and their tennents. He was a good Earl, beloved by all. And Sansa, who did nothing but play with dolls as a girl quickly realized it was nothing like caring for real children.

Rickon and Arya were wild, but good at heart and Bran was a bookworm who rarely let himself play with toys. An ‘Old Soul’ Sansa had deemed, like herself. And while they became orphans in the blink of an eye there was no denying they were a family filled with love. With the addition of Robb’s wife Jeyne Westering, the daughter of a Viscount from the South, Sansa began to realize that soon she would have to marry. Once this thought was a source of joy but now it only saddened her because if she were to marry, she would have to leave her siblings behind. Afterall, most men in the ton would not accept a maid with 3 children. Shaking away the thought, she looked back to her beautiful bouquet. 

Turning the envelope over, she was quite surprised to see the blood red seal of a flaming stag, one she knew could only belong to a Baratheon, and only one Baratheon came to mind. 

Stannis. She still couldn’t shake him from her thoughts. Intrigued at his imposing presence and stormy blue eyes. 

Smiling she carefully lifted the seal, not wanting to break it and opened it to see crisp handwriting, “White Roses for a White Knight. In your debt - S.B”. It was wonderful. She couldn’t have stopped the sigh escaping her if her life depended on it, but she did manage not to press the letter to her chest. The stoic Duke had sent her flowers and a surprisingly romantic letter. This was important...she knew it. 

She was refolding the letter and placing it in her journal when her brother Robb’s tall form filled the doorway. 

“You have an admirer, I see” smiled, the very image of their father, even if his hair was slightly more red than brown. He was tall as well, only an inch or so taller than herself, and strong from years working at Winterfell with their father. Noble blood or not, their father taught them all to work hard alongside their tennents, lend a hand if it is needed. They were Northerners, a stronger breed than those in the South, this much she learned very quickly in court.

“Perhaps” she said, not wanting to divulge her secret. 

He chuckled, “Alright then, keep your secrets. As long as you’re not running away to marry over a forge.”

She laughed, “You know me better than that I would hope.”

“I’ll still tease you, Earl or not I am still your big brother.”

“Of course, I’d hope for nothing less” she nodded. 

“I wanted to remind you that Jeyne and I will be dining with her family tonight,” he said. 

“Thank you, I will make sure Arya, Bran and Rickon eat something slightly healthy” she laughed. 

“Thank you” he nodded. “I’ll leave you to your secret letters,” he chuckled and departed from her doorway.

Sansa stared at the letter and his flaming seal for several moments before she began plotting her response.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the plot progresses...

“This just arrived for you, your grace” Stannis’ valet Davos announced as he entered the study. Stannis looked up in time to see the letter in his hands, his name elegantly written on the front. 

“Thank you Davos” he took it, his valet vanishing into the halls once more. Setting aside his ledgers to examine the seal. A snowflake, it seemed, one he was not familiar with. Carefully opening it, he was quite surprised when a small piece of cloth fell to the desk. Upon closer examination it was a finely made handkerchief with a stag and doe embroidered at the corner. 

Turning his attention to the letter, he felt his mouth twitch in amusement at the feminine script, “For a fair, rescued maiden. - S.S”. Sansa Stark. She’d embroidered him a favor, for there was no way she could have purchased a piece with a stag exactly resembling his sigil. It was perhaps the most beautiful gift he had ever received. The only gift he’d received from a woman not his Mother. And the letter simply further proved that she was a rare combination of beauty and wit. 

Sending her winter roses had been a singular moment of impulse, a gesture more romantic than anything he’d ever done. He was indeed grateful for her help, embarrassing as it had been that she overheard Robert’s tawdry comments, she swept in and rescued him. He was not certain he would ever get the chance to repay the gesture, and sent the flowers with the card, his attempt at wit to thank her. 

After leaving the Tyrell House, he found that he was not able to shake the red-haired siren from his thoughts. Her acts of saving him from Robert, though slightly out of propriety, showed that she had a quick, thoughtful mind. She used decorum to her advantage and saved him from an embarrassing situation. Young though she may be, she was not like the simpering girls who filled the ton’s ballrooms. Her dress was modest, practical and while simple in design it showed her figure to perfection. She had not thrown herself at him, well aside from the aforementioned tumble to rescue him, but she looked into his eyes and engaged in him in a real conversation. Her vibrant blue eyes had sparkled with both intelligence and mischief, a combination he did not realize would be so...invigorating. Perhaps, he ground his teeth, it was not the look so much as the Lady who held it. 

An odd sort of longing filled his chest, an ache he couldn’t quite explain other than wanting to see her. Gods he was out of his element. 

“Davos” he called, hoping that perhaps his trusted valet could assist him.

“Should I be worried?” Robb found his sister in the Library, her drawing pad in-hand as they hid away from the rain. 

“What?” she glanced up to see him holding a small paper wrapped box, a letter on the top. “Oh!”

“First flowers, now a gift” he carefully placed it in her hands. “Dare I say my Sister will finally accept one of those pesky suitors that have been hounding me since the season started?”

“He’s not a suitor---”

“So it is a man” Robb deduced. 

“Yes” she blushed. “But not a suitor, I mean not officially.”

“Will it eventually be officially?” he inquired. 

“I don’t know” she said honestly.

“Alright” he laughed. “Keep your secrets then” he returned to his office, leaving her to stare at the box, a goofy smile on her face. 

Once certain Robb was not coming back, she carefully opened the letter, the same stag sigil looking back at her, “To wear when rescuing Admirals - S.B” she laughed softly and opened to box to see a pair of lovely kid skin gloves the color of rich caramel, a small shield embossed on the edge of each wrist. They were beyond a doubt the finest gloves she had ever seen, the best in her small collection. Such a beautiful gift, she admired the smooth leather. 

This was more than flowers, this was the gift a man might give a woman he was courting, or that a man might give his intended. Knowing what she had heard of Stannis, he was not a man given to flights of fancy or prone to giving gifts. That he had done so, for her, made her heart sing. 

She had told Robb the truth when she said she didn’t know if this would ever be courting, but she didn’t tell him that she hoped it would. The chance to get to know Stannis Baratheon, the man, not the title, was intriguing, and something she truly wanted. Her father had once called her an old soul, romantic at heart, and it was true. 

Since her debut, her father and now her brother had had many offers for her hand. All of them from men who wanted her for her beauty, and the dowry that would come with a Stark bride. Older men, young men, even Lord Joffrey Baratheon had tried to pay her court before he settled on Lady Margaery. None of them had caused her stomach to flutter as it had when she spoke with Stannis. 

Smiling, she placed the gloves back in the box and placed the letter with them. It was time to be bold, she decided, and hope for the best. 

“A parcel, your grace” Davos set the surprisingly large box on the side table with a slight smirk before returning to his work. Curious, Stannis stood, his mouth twitching in a near smile at the familiar snowflake seal on the letter. Opening the parcel, he was met with an incredible painting of a ship---no, not just any ship but his ship, The Fury, on the open water. She had given him a piece of the Navy to keep in his office. It was...wonderful. 

Beneath the painting was a letter, written in her elegant script, “Fair Maiden escape your tower. Friday Noon, Maegor’s Park - Yours, S.S”. He couldn’t help it then. He smiled. 

Truly smiled, cheeks stretching with the unfamiliar gesture as he felt lighter and younger than he had in a very long time. This woman, this beautiful, accomplished woman had sparked something inside of him that he did not know existed. Something warm, indulgent and entirely new. 

Lifting the painting once more, he crossed the study to the fireplace, setting the painting atop the mantle in a place of honor, a place he would see from his desk every time he looked up. Each time it would remind him of her. 

And now the most important manner, what did one wear when meeting a woman in the park? 

“Davos!” he called, moving quickly through the house.

Sansa was nervous, hands almost trembling as she walked to Maegor’s Park, the footman at her side. She had tried to look casual, gathering her sketchbook and pencils so that if he did not meet her, she would at least not look like a fool. 

The park was only a few blocks from her family’s town home and was a large, grassy area with a path that went around the border. It had a bit of a pond in the middle, making it a popular place to luncheon. She chose a time of day that was early enough to avoid the crowds, but would have some people milling about, as well as her footman to chaperone her.

She was anxious to see him, to see if they were compatible, as he had already captured her attention quite raptly. She already knew he was handsome and an accomplished military mind, she couldn’t help but want to know more. She had learned a bit about him in researching his ship, The Fury, and was quite impressed that he was a good leader, and well liked by his men.

Arriving at the park, she found a stone bench along the pond’s side, the perfect place to wait. Jory, the footman was a reasonable distance away, leaning against the tree beside her. Her family was close with their staff and she had known Jory since she was a little girl. Though he was much older now, he had been a very well known sword master in his younger days, and one of her father’s closest friends. Today he would make sure that she was safe in the park while enjoying the peace and quiet himself. 

Settling in to wait, she found did not have to wait long, for soon the tall, imposing figure of Stannis Baratheon came into sight. She allowed herself the indulgence of admiring his person, long legs, broad shoulders and a strong jaw, yes he was quite handsome. He wore all black again today, though this time his cravat was a bright snowy white. His boots were polished to a shine, and his hat made him impossibly tall.

As he reached her she stood to curtsey, smiling up at him, “My Lord.”

“Lady Sansa” he removed his hat as he bowed. “Good afternoon.”

“I am so glad you accepted my invitation” she motioned to the bench where her sketchbook lay. “Would you like to sit?”

“Thank you” he watched her sit before he sat beside her, sparing a glance at the Stark footman seated a bit away, the two men exchanging slight nods. Smart girl, he thought. Her care for propriety impressed him, as did the sketchbook that lay on the bench. His Sansa was quite talented. His, Gods when did he start thinking of her as 'His'?

He took a brief moment to take in her appearance, pleased it was appropriate for the cool weather and modest as before. While she was a beautiful woman, she did not need the revealing dresses and fashions her peers loved to flaunt. She wore a simple bonnet, only a few tendrils of red hair visible, and a dove grey spencer coat over her ivory gown. She also wore, he noticed, the gloves he had given her, their fit perfect. 

“I am glad of your company,” she said with a smile. “I know that it is cool out, but I much prefer talking to the crush of parties.” 

“Indeed, it is no secret I have a distaste for the forced society functions” he stated. “And the ever watchful eyes of the ton.”

“Oh yes, the gossips” she laughed. “I believe they have enough fodder without my family adding to it.”

“In truth, my brother provides them enough entertainment” he quipped. 

“Without a doubt” she agreed. Turning slightly to face him on the bench, she smiled, “Tell me about yourself, your grace.”

“I fear I am quite boring” he admitted. “Navy, Dragonstone, nothing terribly exciting.”

“I disagree, I think being in the Navy would be quite exciting,” she said. “Did you enjoy it?”

He nodded, “I did, I learned a lot and it allowed me to be at sea, a great benefit.”

“Dragonstone is on the sea, is it not?”

“As is Storm’s End, the Baratheons must always be by the water” he noted. 

“I have never been at sea, though I have seen the shores in King’s Landing, I did not care for it,” she admitted. “Though I believe that had more to do with being in King’s Landing than anything else.”

“A city I do my best to avoid at every chance” he agreed. “The shores at Dragonstone are black sand, it’s quite unique.”

“How unique indeed!” she agreed. “If I were to return to the water, I would dearly love to paint it.”

“You paint quite well, I greatly enjoyed the depiction of The Fury” he said softly. 

“I am glad you like it” she looked to her gloves. “I wanted to give you something unique in return for what are truly the best gloves I have ever owned.”

“They fit well” he mused, using his own gloved hand to raise hers in inspection. The touch, though dampened by the gloves, was an indulgence on his part. He found he simply wished to touch her and feel the warm weight of her fingers in his own.

“They’re perfect” she met his gaze with a warm smile. “Thank you, My Lord.”

“I believe, in such a case as this, when we’re alone, you may call me Stannis” he said, lost in her vibrant cerulean eyes. 

“Only if you will call me Sansa in return, Stannis” she blushed, her cheeks flush with color. 

“As you say” he felt his mouth twitch in a small smile. 

“Now tell me more, I should like to know everything about you,” she prompted, thus encouraging him to have the most honest conversation of his life. 

“There you are!” Robb laughed as she returned home. “You’ve been gone hours.”

“Yes, I rather lost track of time” she smiled, setting her sketchbook aside to untie her bonnet. 

“I’ll say, you missed lunch and nearly dinner” he took in the flush of her cheeks. “Where were you?”

“Maegor’s Park” she replied.

“Alone?”

She frowned slightly, “Robb…”

“Tell me you at least had an escort” he sighed. 

“Of course, I took Jory” she explained. “I should tell you, before you hear it from others,” she set her bonnet with her sketchbook. “Lord Stannis Baratheon has asked to court me, and I have given my consent.”

Robb’s mouth fell in shock, “Stannis? Dark Duke of Dragonstone, Stannis?”

“Yes” she said. 

“Stannis?” he repeated. 

“Robb” she laughed nervously. 

“Baratheon?”

“I know of no other Stannis” she snarked.

“I must admit I am quite surprised” he shook his head. “I did not think that Stannis would ever pay court to anyone. Let alone write letters and send flowers and gifts. Of course, I assume they were from him.”

“They were” she said with a soft smile. “I like him, Robb, truly.” 

“Then I am happy for you” he gave her a quick hug. “He’s a good man, never violent or indulgent. Father always spoke highly of him. I believe he would make a good husband.”

“He’s made no such promise” she did her best not to blush and failed terribly. 

“Ah, sister, given his reclusive history, the ton will see this new development as a sure sign that matrimony will follow” he chuckled.

“I do so loathe the gossips” she sighed. 

“Don’t we all” he laughed. “Now come, it's almost time for dinner and you know impatient Arya is.”


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And progresses some more...

Though slightly tardy, Stannis arrived at the Mormont Party when it was already in full swing. This of course means the ballroom was overcrowded and overwarm, but he was willing to risk such discomfort to see her once more. Handing his hat, coat and gloves to the footman at the door, he made his way inside and began searching for her fiery red hair. 

Since their afternoon in the park, one that accidentally went on for several hours as they were lost in conversation, he had only seen her once. She had been out shopping, looking to grab material to make her sister a new dress, she had smiled as they met on the sidewalk. He walked with her for a while, chatting about the events of their day and anything that came to mind but an appointment had called him away. He bid her a reluctant farewell and watched as she and her maid continued up the street and into a shop.

He knew she would be in attendance tonight, so he was anxious to see her. Much to his own surprise he been looking forward to the party and their next conversation. And tonight, tonight he planned to make his intentions known to the ton at large. There would be no mistake in what he had planned.

Spotting her near the veranda, her elder brother and goodsister with her, he made his way to them. Both his imposing height and reputation worked in his favor, as people were intimidated enough not to stop him for a chat, instead parting to make a clear path. 

“Lord Stark, Lady Stark” he bowed before facing her. “Lady Sansa.”

“Lord Baratheon” Robb Stark smiled. “I am delighted to renew our acquaintance” he extended his hand. 

“As am I” he shook the offered hand, impressed by the young mans easy manner. As luck would have it, the musicians signalled the waltz, and he knew now was his moment. “Lady Sansa” he extended his hand. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

Her smile was positively luminous, “Absolutely, My Lord” she took his hand, allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor. She was hyper-aware of the shocked stares following them, all of them ignorant to her previous connection to Stannis, but now very aware of his intention. After all, he had never danced in public before and here he was, asking her for a waltz. 

His warm hands settled around hers, the touch comforting and firm. A few other pairs trickled to the dance floor around them, but they were given a wide berth. She wondered, idly, what they looked like, both of them tall, him striking and her with her unfashionably red hair. She would guess they were a well-matched pair, as it certainly felt as such. 

As the music began, she learned he was a fine dancer, leading her confidently around the floor. His eyes were on her, not often wandering away, both of them silently communicating their blooming affection for one another. She smiled, the music reaching crescendo as he twirled her infinitely closer, her bare arms able to feel the warmth of his body. This, she decided, what was dancing was truly meant to be. 

Too soon, it was over. He did not release her, instead placing her hand on his arm to cover it with his own. A bold move that spoke clearly to those observing, and they were all observing. Mine, it said, she is mine. 

“Well met” Robb smiled as they returned to the side. 

“You’re a fine dancer, My Lord” Sansa smiled, doing her best to ignore the whispers surrounding them. Robb’s greeting of Stannis would have shown as his approval, she was sure the gossip mongers were all a twitter. 

“Indeed he is!” Robert’s booming voice joined them, clapping his brother heavily on the back. 

“Your Grace” the Starks greeting, bowing to their king. 

“Brother” Stannis’ voice held a fair bit of warning, the stern tone much different that his usual.

“I am glad you finally listened to me” Robert’s volume lowered, heeding Stannis’ unspoken warning. “And you have chosen the prettiest woman in the room.” 

“Indeed I have” Stannis placed his hand over hers where it still rest on his arm. “If you’ll excuse us, I believe I promised the lady an astronomy lesson,” he continued. With a nod to Lord Stark, he left Robert shocked and gaping as he lead Sansa onto the veranda. 

In truth, she had asked him to teach her about the stars, and how he navigated by them the next time they should find themselves out at dark. Grateful to be able to teach her he had agreed and it seemed perfect timing to escape his brother. The night air was cool but not cold, clear of clouds that would hinder them. Propriety demanded that they stay within sight of the ball, and they would, he did not want her reputation to be tarnished by something as foolish as astronomy. 

“Teach me” she smiled, and he began, pointing out several important stars, and constellations. She had a way of making him feel comfortable, relaxed in a way that he’d never before experienced. She listened when he spoke, whether it be a story about the sky or simply about the events of the day, she truly listened. Genuinely cared. So often in society he observed falsities, and facades, but this woman beside him was free of guile and deceit, she was a rare gem indeed. Unapologetically herself and uncaring to fit in. He would watch her, her blue eyes marveling at each new fact and tidbit, urging him to share more. 

“How long did it take you to learn all of the stars?” she asked softly. 

“Many years” he smiled, looking down at her. “I joined the Navy when I was but ten and four years old. Started at the bottom and worked my way up to Admiral.”

“You were still a boy at ten and four” she frowned. 

“My brother would argue I was born an adult” he quipped and she laughed softly. “I did my duty, as a second son. I am fortunate to have promoted quickly, and to have survived the war.”

“I am very glad that you did” she smiled up at him, moving slightly closer to his side. 

“Oh?”

“Of course” she teased. “Who else would I rescue then?”

He gave an odd sort of chuckle, mesmerized by the happiness on her face, wishing he could see it every day just like this. 

Robert watched in rapt fascination as his brother, Stannis the Stoic, smiled down at the girl. Smiled. Stannis! It was quite shocking to say the least, he couldn’t remember the last time he saw his brother smile. Had he ever? 

The last time he decided to visit his brother, he was informed that he was out, and Robert assumed it must have been errands or an appointment, but perhaps, just perhaps he was courting Sansa Stark. 

Gods, what would Ned say, he wondered. Robb certainly looked happy enough, obviously aware of who was courting his sister and Sansa, gods she looked at Stannis as if he hung the very stars they were observing. She was quite fascinated by him and made no move to hide it. 

“What is she doing with Uncle Stannis?” Joffery’s affronted voice broke into his musings. 

“Astronomy” Robert chuckled. 

“Are they courting then?” Joffrey sneered. “She’s too beautiful for him.”

“You’re just upset because she refused you” Robert pat his son on the shoulder. “Leave them alone.”

“Father---”

“I mean it” Robert warned. “Leave them be.”

“Fine” Joffrey stalked back to his fiance's side, and Robert hoped for once that he would be obeyed.


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff and Joffrey being...well....Joffrey...

They sat on the foothill at Maegor’s Park, a picnic basket beside them as her three younger siblings were running around the grass. Arya, now ten and three, was quickly growing into a young woman, and Bran would soon be ten himself. Rickon of course, at age 6 would always be the wild one, she guessed. 

Stannis watched as they finished their game of tag before laying on the grass beside them, laughing at the sunny sky. It was interesting to see the Stark children, ones that Sansa had a very active role in raising, and was almost a surrogate mother to, especially the youngest boy. Though there was a certain wildness to Rickon Stark, he was polite and listened to his elder Sister as he would a mother.

In truth, all of the Stark children were well-mannered and curious, having bombarded him with questions about the ocean and the Navy as soon as they learned he was an Admiral. Arya even announced she wished she could join the Navy and learn to fight, rather than attend silly parties. He found it oddly charming. 

Sansa was beside him on the blanket, having shed her bonnet, fiery hair glowing in the sun. Her cheeks were pink from the sun, and a smattering of freckles had appeared across her cheeks and nose. It was quite charming. Her light green dress made her look like a fairy come to tempt him to the forest. She was smiling, happiness surrounding her, and he found that he could quite easily get used to this. 

“Lord Dragon, do you know how to fly a kite?” Rickon rolled over on the grass and asked him. 

“I do” he replied, amused by the boy’s nickname for him. 

“Really?” he was on his feet in an instant, digging through the bag beside the picnic basket until he dug out the moderately sized kite he’d brought along. “Can you teach me, please?”

“Of course” he stood, removing his hat and with a smile to Sansa, he lead the boy a bit away where he taught him how to maneuver the kite. 

Sansa couldn’t help but smile, watching as he patiently showed her wild younger brother what to do. Her thoughts wandered to the future, to their children, he would be a caring father. Strict but caring, she decided. A truly good man. 

“I like him” Arya plopped beside her, interrupting her thoughts. 

“Oh?” Sansa asked. 

“Yes, he isn’t stuck up, like most people” she grabbed a small sandwich from the picnic basket. “He’s like Father.”

“How so?” Sansa prompted. 

“He listens, and he is very smart” Arya shrugged. “Father was quiet but when he spoke it was important.”

“That is true” Sansa said softly. “I miss Father too.”

“Are you going to marry him?” Arya asked.

“He hasn’t asked” Sansa felt her cheeks heat. 

“He will. I can tell by the way he looks at you. Not like that disgusting Joffrey did, but like he would ride into any battle just to save you” she was interrupted by Rickon’s screams of joy as his kite took to the air. 

“I did it!!!” he squealed, running through the grass, the kite trailing behind him. 

Stannis stood, hands on his hips, watching the young boy as proud father would, and that thought made Sansa’s stomach flutter. It only grew worse when, as if reading her thoughts, he turned to meet her gaze, a small smile at the corner of his mouth. 

Stannis stood at the edge of the room, watching the revellers celebrate his nephew’s marriage to Lady Margaery formerly Tyrell. It was a rather raucous feast, with alcohol freely flowing and his brother’s booming voice telling bawdy tales at the head table. Queen Cersei looked as if she would rather be anywhere else in the world than in the same room as her husband. He found, while he disliked her, in this moment he could not blame her. 

He had hoped that Sansa would be at the wedding and he would be able to share her company once more. But disappointment coursed through him upon his arrival to see Lord Robb Stark and his wife alone in the crowd. He wondered, briefly, if it was her former refusal of his nephew that kept Sansa away, and an odd surge of jealousy coursed through him. His fears were momentarily allayed as Lord Stark greeted him with a smile and a message from Sansa. 

“Lord Baratheon, I have been sent with a message for you” Robb said. “My dear sister sends her apologies that she will not be in attendance. Arya is ill and she stayed behind to care for her.”

“Thank you for your message, Lord Stark, I hope that Lady Arya will improve quickly” Stannis bowed his head in acknowledgement. 

“Er, yes, I believe she will be right as rain soon” he gave an odd expression that Stannis could not interpret and did not believe. There was something else that he was not saying, and it made the previous jealousy rise in his blood once more. 

He had never dwelled in jealousy before. He had accepted his place as a second son without question. He was never jealous of Robert’s crown nor did he give a second thought to Renly’s reputed good looks. Perhaps he accepted those facts because he knew no other way. Now, however, he had something very precious to lose. Something he never wanted to lose. He ground his teeth as he felt the ugly tendrils wrapping around his heart and it terrified him. 

He did his best to watch the ceremony, but his mind was still preoccupied with Robb’s odd expression. He fell into the reclusive routine he had for many years, avoiding conversations and watching those partiers around him. For the first time he wondered not when he would be forced to marry, but if he ever would get to marry the woman who had captured him so. He wondered what sort of wedding it would be, both of them modest and keen on avoiding parties. A garden wedding perhaps. Or---

“Uncle” Joffrey’s shrill voice pulled him rather abruptly to the present. 

“Nephew, I offer my congratulations on your marriage” he said politely, noticing that Joffrey was nearly as drunk as his sire. 

“She’s pretty enough, I suppose” Joffrey looked to where Lady Margaery was talking with her grandmother Lady Olenna, the Duchess of Highgarden. 

“Indeed,” he agreed. 

“Nothing like Sansa Stark” Joffrey laughed, elbowing him roughly. 

“I do not think it is appropriate to---”

“Have you managed to get between her legs yet uncle? Is she as red below as above?” Joffrey spat with a shrug. “I am sure that one Baratheon is just as good as another and she was quite upset when I cast her aside. Though in truth your fortune is larger, so perhaps that is why she chose you rather than Uncle Renly.”

“This is not appropriate conversation, nephew” Stannis growled. “You dishonor her by suggesting such awful things.”

“It must be the Baratheon name, why else would she connect herself to you? Father talks as if you have never bed a woman and wouldn’t know what to do, and mother says a horse would be easier to seduce than stoic Stannis---”

“Enough!”

“She’s too good for you. She would be wasted on a washed up old man like you” Joffrey laughed cruelly.

“Thank you for your insight nephew” Stannis glared, watching with pleasure as Joffrey shrunk under his gaze. “I believe you have spoken enough of Lady Sansa for tonight, go back to your bride” he hissed.

As Joffrey slunk away, he decided he had done his duty in attending thus far and it was time to leave. Demanding his coat and hat, he left the crush behind, his mind swirling with thoughts. 

He would be loathe to admit but the boys words had stuck him deeply, playing on old insecurities that he suspected would never quite mend. While jealousy had always been foreign, the feeling that he was somehow lacking had been a constant companion. The ‘Dark Duke’ he had become was solitary but not entirely on his own volition. He knew he was curt, cold and quiet, but that did not mean he felt no emotion. In truth he felt deeply, but he kept it all concealed. Strength was admired in the Navy and showing any weakness, in battle or to the men in his command, could end in disaster. 

His long legs carried him swiftly up the street towards his townhome, but his steps faltered as he saw a familiar flash of red across the street. It was Lady Sansa, his heart dropped to his feet. She was clad in a modest brown dress and straw bonnet, a large parcel under her arm as she moved quickly back towards the Stark townhome. Caring for Arya, indeed, he hissed turning away from the scene. 

Storming into his home, he tossed his hat carelessly aside and strode to his study where he slammed the door. Pain echoed in his chest. She had lied, why? She did not seem the lying sort, in truth he thought her free of deceit but she was clearly not caring for a sibling. Joffrey’s words echoed in his head, One Baratheon is as good as the next, he paced in front of his desk. 

Doubt and confusion coursed through him, followed by anger. She had made him fall in love with her, she had pulled his heart strings until they were so tightly bound to her he could not breathe. She had made him feel, made him love and now he felt the acute cut of her slight as he would a cannon blast. 

Blast her. 

“My Lord is unable to take visitors” Ser Davos saw the disappointment on the young girls face. He had, admittedly, been curious as to the young woman who had so thoroughly changed his master. She was quite beautiful, as he expected, unique fiery hair coiled smoothly atop her head, and bright blue eyes that betrayed her every emotion. He was surprised then, after all the letters, gifts and visits, that Stannis had refused to open her letter, and instructed him to turn her away if she should come by. A fight perhaps? Or misunderstanding?

“Oh, I apologize for just dropping by. I had thought” she trailed off, clearing her throat. “I had thought that he missed my letter. And I---”

“Ser Davos” Stannis’ deep voice sounded behind him. The tone as hard as granite and sharp as glass. 

“My Lord” Davos bowed, stepping aside to leave the two in the foyer. 

“Stannis--” she began with a smile. 

“Lord Baratheon” he corrected, watching the smile as it fell from her face. 

“I see” she whispered. 

“I did receive your letter, but I did not read it” he spoke. “I do not think there is any need for further communication--”

“Stannis--Lord Baratheon please” she pleaded, stepping closer, her bonnet falling from her hands as she reached for him. He stepped back, trying not to focus on the tears in her eyes or how beautiful she looked in the pale pink dress. He had to end this, whatever it was, before she could hurt him further. His nephews words haunted his every waking moment, he was not worthy of such a beautiful woman. “Please.”

“I bid you good fortune in your future, Lady Sansa” he dismissed her as he would a servant, his heart racing in protestation as he did. 

“My Lord, please, what sin have I committed to earn such hatred from you” she pleaded. 

“Deceit” he said curtly. 

“I have never lied to you” she said vehemently and he almost believed her. 

“Why were you absent from Lord Joffrey’s wedding?” he asked. 

“Arya was...ill,” she paused. “I sat with her to ease her--”

“Deceit” he said simply. “I bid you good day, Lady Stark” he gave a curt bow and forced his legs to move, turning away from her to return to his study. 

Sansa watched his tall figure disappear into the office, the door slamming behind him. She jumped at the sound, its boom echoing as she realized he had figuratively and literally shut the door on her. Their future gone forever. 

“My Lady” the valet’s kind voice sounded beside her as he bent to retrieve her bonnet. “Come, I will help you to a hansom cab.”

“No, thank you Ser” she took her bonnet. “I will walk” she said, her blue eyes overflowing with tears. 

“My Lady” Davos argued but she shook her head. 

“Good day, ser” she pulled on her bonnet and left the townhome, uncaring of the wind and rain that poured down upon her as she walked. In fact, she was grateful for it, as the rain hid her tears well.


	5. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grovelling is needed...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me thus far! I hope you're enjoying the Regency Stansa!  
> Big brother Robb to the rescue...

Robb stared at Sansa’s still form as she finally settled into slumber. The fever had taken her quickly, settling in the evening she had returned home soaked with rain. She had not spoken, sobbing quietly as the maids and then Maester tended her. Only now, with a sleeping dram did she rest. 

She would live, the Maester had assured him, she was lucky. Arya and Rickon slept beside her on the small bed while Bran was asleep in the chair beside them. They were all worried. Sansa had always had a fine constitution, the strongest of them all he’d joke. But she was lost to the fever for many days before it finally broke. 

“Robb” Jeyne’s soft voice sounded in the hall. “Come, you should rest too. The fever has broken, she will be safe.”

“Did she tell you where she had gone?” Robb asked. 

“No, she did not” Jeyne frowned. “Though….” she frowned. “I would venture a guess that she had been with Dragonstone.”

Robb paused, realizing that in the sennight Sansa had been ill, they had not heard from the Duke which was quite odd. “You’re right” he took his wife’s hand, squeezing it softly. “She was crying, sobbing really.”

“Would he cast her aside?” Jeyne asked, eyes wide. 

“I do not know” Robb’s expression hardened. “But I will get to the bottom of this. If he has hurt her, I will defend her.”

“Tomorrow, my love” Jeyne encouraged. “Leave the battle for tomorrow. Come rest.”

“Lord Robb Stark to see you, My Lord” Davos said nervously. 

“Send him away” Stannis did not raise his head from his letters, focused on the business of Dragonstone. 

“He will not---”

“You may go, Ser,” Robb Stark’s voice was harder than he had ever heard it, dismissing Davos as he stormed into the study. 

“I cannot be dismissed as easily as my Sister” Robb said and the Duke’s face fell. “I see, so it is true then.”

“I do not believe it is your concern” Stannis stood, feeling as if he were preparing for battle. 

“My sister is my concern, My Lord, and when she has been abed a week with a fever from walking home from your house, it is MY concern” Robb glared. 

“Fever?” He felt his throat tighten. “Is she well?”

"You act as if you truly care” Robb scoffed. 

“My caring was never in question” Stannis rebutted. 

“But hers was?” Robb drew the logical conclusion. 

“Indeed” Stannis started. “You said she missed Joffrey’s wedding because Arya was ill, and yet I saw her in town---”

“Arya was ill, My Lord” Robb’s eyes narrowed. “You think she would lie about her attendance?”

“Then why was she in town?”

Robb drew a deep breath, exhaling as he shook his head, “Arya woke the day of the wedding with her first moon’s blood. She was distraught and Sansa stayed with her the whole day” he felt odd discussing such intimate family details aloud, but he felt honesty was the best policy at this point. “Sansa left her sister only once, gathering additional supplies, as it were, and to pick up a sword she had ordered for Arya’s name day, giving it to her on the occasion of becoming a woman.”

Stannis felt his body deflate as he sank back into his chair. He felt the truth in Robb’s words. A truth that would have not passed the lips of Sansa as it was not appropriate to talk of such things. Moon blood. Gods, he ran a hand over his face. That was why Robb looked uncomfortable talking about it at the wedding and why Sansa did not say before. 

“Have you finally realize your mistake?” Robb sneered. “You have hurt her, deeply, My Lord.”

“I had believed it was fair, given that she had hurt me” he admitted softly. 

“She would never lie, and never deceive you” Robb’s voice softened. “She loves you and spoke of nothing but you to all who would listen.”

“Is she well?” Stannis voice was rough with emotion. 

“She nearly left us” Robb admitted. “The fever broke last night, she has been asleep a sennight.”

Stannis swallowed roughly, overcome with the thought of her vibrant vitality being extinguished forever. He’d been cruel. Lashing out like a wounded animal he had attacked that which he loved most. And because of it he had nearly caused her death.

“I never believe those who spoke of you having no heart” Robb stated plainly. “I believe that you have one, but keep it so closely guarded that no one can break through. I had hoped your reserve would soften for my sister. I believe that you love her, as she does you, but you’re afraid. I understand that fear” he thought of his own wife. “But she does not deserve your anger.” 

“I understand that now” Stannis admitted. 

“She does not” Robb replied. “You cast her aside without thought.”

“I am a fool” he stood abruptly, pacing to the fireplace. 

“We’re in agreement in that respect” Robb chuckled. “But you have time, a chance to make it right.”

“Do you think she would allow that?” Stannis asked the young Lord softly.

“She is the most forgiving person I know” Robb assured. “Just be honest, speak openly with her on your actions and misunderstandings. She deserves that.”

“You have given me much to think about” Stannis nodded. “I am grateful for your visit.”

He gave a bow, “Take my advice, Lord Baratheon. She is worth it.” And with that Stannis found himself alone in his study, feeling like the biggest fool in the realm. 

“And their family words are?” Sansa quizzed her younger brothers. 

“As High as Honor?” Bran guessed and she smiled. 

“Very good” Sansa smiled, patting his chocolate brown hair. She had been abed nearly a fortnight now, but felt stronger today than she had a while. While she did not remember much from her illness, she could tell by her younger siblings hoverings that she had been quite close to death. They were loath to leave her side, and choosing even to study with her than play outside as they normally did. 

Their company helped her not to think on the words that Stannis had used to cut her down. Deceit echoed in her mind as she tried to sleep. He had broken her heart, she admitted, and she still did not understand why. 

“Alright boys, go and have your lunch” Robb’s voice interrupted from the door. Rickon and Bran bounced off the bed, running past their brother as they dashed for their lunch. Robb watched them go with a smile before approaching the bed to sit beside her. “How do you feel today?”

“Stronger” she said softly, setting the book of houses aside. “It is my own stubborn fault for not taking a cab.”

Robb nodded, “It is alright. I am just grateful you’re on the mend” he paused. “I spoke with Lord Dragonstone” Robb said quietly. 

“Robb” she sighed.

“I set the record straight” Robb reasoned. “You did not lie to him. He saw you in town, the day of Joffrey Baratheon’s wedding. I explained your errand.”

“It does not matter now” she took his hand. “But thank you, my dear defender.”

“Jeyne forbid me from duelling him” Robb chuckled. 

“Good!” Sansa laughed. “I daresay he would have walloped you.”

“Hey!” he squeezed her hand softly. “It is good to see you smiling again.”

“Thank you Robb” she relaxed against the pillows hoping that someday her smile would reach her heart. 

“How do I look?” Stannis nervously asked Davos as the man settled his snowy white cravat in place. 

“Dashing, My Lord” Davos gave him a curt now. 

“Good enough to grovel?” Stannis asked softly, smoothing his waistcoat as Davos stepped back. 

“Indeed,” Davos paused. “I find that grovelling is taken most seriously when one is on his knees, My Lord.”

“I have never had need to grovel before” Stannis admitted. 

“I daresay that she is worth it, My Lord” Davos gave a kind smile. 

“I daresay you’re right” Stannis agreed. 

“I will call for a hansom” Davos excused himself leaving Stannis in his dressing room to stare at his reflection. Instead of his usual all black he was wearing a white shirt and cravat, a vain attempt to soften his appearance. Lord Stark had given him a fine dressing down, and left him with a lot to think about. He had done nothing but think since, decided that he would beg her forgiveness and offer her the ring he had already chosen for her, and pray that she take pity on him. 

Grey hair, dark eyes and a too tall frame was all he had to offer. He would not be young or handsome, but if she would have him, he would give her the world. 

“My Lord” Davos reappeared in the door, his overcoat in hand. “It’s time.”

Taking a deep breath, Stannis tucked the velvet pouch in his pocket and moved to accept his fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much for reading!


	6. Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the "E" rating...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of grovelling and a bit of...well, smut. I have never written it before, I am so sorry in advance.
> 
> *chugs wine* welp here we go!

“My lady” Jory knocked at the library door. “Lord Baratheon, Lord Dragonstone that is, is asking to see you.”

“Asking?” she sniffled quietly, wiping her eyes with her handkerchief. Today she had felt well enough to venture to the library, and had taken up a seat before the fire to lose herself in thought. 

“Demanding” Jory gave a small smile, knowing how much the Duke had hurt his mistress already. 

She scoffed, shaking her head, “You can send him in” she agreed. 

“Straight away” Jory gave a nod and vanished, a tall familiar figure filling the doorway moments later. He looked as imposing as she remembered, though his eyes were tired and his cravat was shockingly white. She had missed him, so much that her heart ached anew at his presence. 

“Sansa---”

“Lady Sansa” she corrected as he had done in their last meeting, wishing that her voice was stronger. In truth she had been crying quite hard earlier and was grateful he hadn’t arrived then. Folding her hands demurely in her lap she forced herself to meet his gaze, “Please be seated My Lord, shall I call for tea?”

“Hang tea” he growled, tossing his hat and gloves aside before shrugging out of his overcoat and jacket before tossing them onto a nearby chair. “Sansa, I---”

“Lady Sansa” she corrected once more. 

“No” he moved to stand proudly before her, uncaring he was in shirtsleeves and waistcoat. “We’re past formalities.”

“Oh?” she raised a brow in challenge. “Forgive me, but you were the one who set me aside---” she stopped when her voice broke, looking quickly away to school her features. 

“I did, Gods forgive me, I did” he exhaled in frustration. “It nearly killed me to do so.”

“Then…..why?” she broke then, sobs returning much to her mortification. She covered her face with her hands, crying softly and wishing that this heartache would just stop. 

“Because I am a damned fool” he said, his voice suddenly louder, closer and she looked through her fingers to see he now knelt before her, hands poised to take hers. “Please, I beg your forgiveness.”

“Why?” she whispered, blinking a fresh wave of tears onto her cheeks. “I don’t understand….”

“My nephew said things, implied things that made me doubt myself, doubt us. And when I saw you in town I thought that--I am so stupid” he said. “I am so ashamed. I never should have listened to him, never should have doubted you my dearest, loveliest Sansa. I believed myself unworthy, as I have felt through much of my life and I pushed you away to spare you… I am so sorry.”

Reluctantly she lowered her hands to his, the warmth of his skin soothing her, spreading through her in an odd comfort, “Stannis…”

He sighed, bringing her fingers to his lips to place a lingering kiss on her knuckles, “I am so sorry” he kissed the back of her hand. “And if you’ll have me, I will endeavor every day to make it up to you. I would love you all of our days, if you would find it in your heart to forgive me my transgression.”

She watched him closely, seeing the pain and honesty in his midnight blue eyes. This strong, proud man was on his knees before her, begging, it was humbling to see. She swallowed back another wave of tears, holding his hands as if she would never let him go. He had hurt her deeply. Joffery’s words, whatever they had been, had sent him reeling and seeing her in town was merely another straw that broke him. He had pushed her away to spare her, he said, believing himself unworthy of her love. Her poor, broken man...

"Promise you will never doubt us, doubt me?” she said after several long moments. 

“I promise” he kissed the curve of her thumb. 

“Promise you will not be parted from me” she choked on a sob. “Not again.”

He sighed deeply, kissing her palm, “I promise. I never wish to leave your side.”

“Promise to share a life with me, a real life, together” she said softly, moving the hand he was not currently covering with kisses to cup his cheek. “We marry for love, not alliance.”

“I promise” he ardently kissed her inner wrist, the porcelain skin as soft as silk against his lips. “Promise you shall marry me soon,” he asked for a promise of his own. 

“I promise” she smiled through her tears of joy.

“That you will share my life, my love, my bed” he asked. 

“I promise” she whispered. 

“Promise that you will not leave me in childbed” he swallowed thickly. “I could not bear it…”

“I am half Tully, my love, and my mother had 5 healthy children, I shall do my best” she smiled. 

“I love you, with a desperation that terrifies me. I love you,” he said. 

“I love you” she smiled, clinging to him as he stood, pulling her with him and into his embrace. She did not have time to laugh though, as his lips claimed hers for the first time, soundly kissing away her sadness. She sighed, leaning against the solid wall of his body as his arms locked around her, locking her against him. Home, she thought as she kissed him back. This is home. 

The wedding was the talk of the season, more so than the previous marriage of Joffrey Baratheon and Margaery Tyrell. Everyone was clamoring to look their best as the King’s brother finally married. They all wanted to be there to see Lord Dragonstone submit to a matrimonial fate, as they never suspected he would. 

Of course, the bride’s beauty stole the show. Escorted down the makeshift aisle in Maegor’s Park by her elder brother, she was a vision in an ivory dress. Her fiery hair was hidden beneath the soft veil and she carried a bouquet of white winter roses. Stannis had asked, when they talked of their wedding, that they be married in the park where they first conversed. The park where he now knew he fell in love with her. He had admitted having thought of it as the perfect venue for sometime. At the slight blush on his cheek’s Sansa was powerless to refuse. 

As she walked towards him, Stannis memorized every detail of his bride, he’d never seen her look more beautiful than she did in that moment. He wore his dress uniform, a fine figure in the naval blues, medals shining in the morning light. He looked, others noted, handsome enough to make several of the women regret they’d never paid him much notice. 

As the Septon announced them man and wife, they could all see his lips whisper words of love before he kissed her, assuring the gossips that this was a marriage of love, not of convenience. 

The wedding breakfast was a smaller affair, with only the families in attendance, though thankfully Lord Joffrey chose not to attend. No one noticed his absence. Sansa sat at her husband’s side, hardly able to believe that they were at last married. This strong, proud man was her husband and they would never have to be parted again. Rickon sat close to Stannis’ other side, having grown quite attached to Lord Dragon since their outing in the park all those months ago. Stannis indulged him, realizing that he was something of a father figure to the boy, more so now that he had married the woman who had been his mother these past years. 

He had shyly asked amidst the wedding preparations, if her younger siblings would like to live at Dragonstone with them after the wedding. Sansa had wept with happiness, overwhelmed by his offer to help her care for her family. Robb had initially been reluctant, but now that his lady wife was increasing his attention would be needed on his own new family.

Family, Sansa felt her stomach flutter. Soon she would learn the dealings of the wedding bed, the true touch of her husband, an act that could lead to her own increasing. She was afraid, only because she did not want to fail him. Jeyne had pulled her aside yesterday to talk with her about it, allay her fears and help to fill in gaps that her mother and tutors had never covered. Jeyne assured her that since they were both fortunate to marry for love, there would be much enjoyment to be found with her husband. She found herself most impatient to learn of this enjoyment at her husband's hand. 

“My love” he kissed her temple, as if once again sensing her thoughts. 

“Husband” she smiled, placing her hand on his thigh, delighted to feel the muscle tense under her bold touch. 

“Shall we make our escape?” he whispered softly, the rich baritone of his voice sending shivers down her spine.

“Oh yes” she smiled, knowing her cheeks would be bright red. “Robb said he will take the children home.”

“A house to ourselves” he all but purred. “Perfect” he turned to their guests and started the process of their escape. 

He watched her, treasuring the intimacy of the moment as she unpinned her hair. He had no idea it was so long, falling in red waves past her hips, like a curtain of fire. Upon entering his town home, she’d slipped away to their bedroom, her maid helping her from her gown and stays as he’d arranged for a meal to be sent up in a few hours. 

He found her now, clad in a blue silk robe, seated at the vanity as she saw to her hair. It seemed so long ago that he saw her for the first time, the beautiful rescuer that saved him from his brother’s ill met good intentions. He’d believed her the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, never imagining that she would be his. His wife, Gods he could hardly believe that she had accepted him, loved him. That she had forgiven him. 

“Husband” she smiled at him in the mirror, her eyes even bluer thanks to the robe. 

“You’re so beautiful” he said softly, moving to her side, no longer able to stop himself from touching the rich silk of her hair. “I did not realize it was so long” he ran his hands through the strands. 

“I do not like to cut it” she admitted, standing now before him. He groaned softly, realizing that beneath that robe she wore nothing at all, as the outline of her nipples was visible through the fabric. “You’re overdressed” she smiled shyly. 

“Perhaps you can help me remedy that” he said softly, stroking the curve of her neck. She did not reply, merely slid her hands up his chest to help him out of his jacket, laying it over a chair, mindful of all of the medals and ribbons. Next she saw to the buttons of his waistcoat, pushing the material aside to run her hands over his lawn shirt. 

“So strong” she whispered, letting the waistcoat fall away, his cravat joining it on the floor shortly after. She marvelled at the dusting of black hair she discovered on his chest as his shirt was discarded revealing the lean, hardened muscles and a few scars she had not expected. 

He gasped softly as she placed a featherlight kiss on the scar over his chest, a war souvenir he’d received long ago. Her warm lips sent desire rocketing through his body, trying to consume him. “My love” he said softly, his hands travelling to the tie of her robe. A light tug was all it took to have the robe fall open, revealing sinfully perfect porcelain nudity that nearly unmanned him. “You are perfection” he spoke as he drank in the fullness of her bare breasts, soft pink nipples hardened and reaching out to him. The curve of her hips, soft flesh of her stomach and the thatch of fiery curls at the apex of her long legs. “A goddess.”

“Stannis” she moved closer, her bare body coming to rest against his bare chest as his lips settled on hers. They had kissed before, but this was different. Unbound and with no need to stop, she allowed herself to sink into the desire that built as his mouth met hers. His arms encircled her, pushing the robe to the floor so his hands could traverse the bare skin of her back, sides and buttocks. Sensation followed, fiery chills racing through her as she ached for him. 

Soon his boots and breeches were gone, leaving only his underclothes that did little to hide the arousal at the top of his powerful thighs. She felt like she was floating as her back met the feather bed, his weight atop her, her legs parting to welcome him closer. His lips trailed down her neck to her shoulder, then to the top of her breast and nipple, pulling the bud into his warm mouth. She cried out softly, nails digging into his shoulders as he wrung pleasure from her body. He wanted to devour her, sink into her depths and fuck into her until he could fill her with his seed, forever mark her as his. But he knew she would be afraid of the strength of his desire for her, and the pain of her maidenhead would only be worsened if he lost his head. The sight of her in the flesh was almost more than he could bear, so he would worship every inch until she was mad with pleasure. Only then he would take her, make her his. 

By the time he reached her other nipple she was panting and flushed from head to toe, and when his fingers found her core, she was soaked, slick desire practically dripping to the bed. 

“Gods” he whispered, teasing her folds with trembling fingers. “So wet for me…”

“Yes” she mewled softly as he brushed her bundle of nerves. When Jeyne had said there was pleasure to be had, she had no idea it would be like this, she felt positively drunk on him. 

His lips brushed her hip, stomach and went back to her breasts as he teased her, at some point losing his underclothes. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of his erect cock, so large and intimidating, like the man himself. With a maiden’s sensibility she thought that she no idea how it would fit. 

He soothed her, his ability to sense her thoughts uncanny, “It will fit” he smiled against the bud of her nipple. “I will take good care of you, my darling wife.”

“Please” she begged, for what she did not know, as his fingers had her hurtling towards something slightly terrifying. She was shaking beneath him, hot and restless, as he played her body like a fine instrument. 

“That’s a good girl, come apart for me” his lips found hers as she cried out his name, body arching as she rode out her pleasure. “Beautiful” he whispered, using the slick on his fingers to stroke his cock. “I am sorry it will hurt” he said softly. 

“It’s alright” she assured him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he settled atop her. The blunt head of him brushed against her core, sending shivers through her, echoes of her peak making her tremble. He made sure to align himself properly, using the slick of her desire to lubricate his shaft. He leaned on one elbow, the other cupping her thigh high against his waist before sinking into her welcoming heat. 

His growl of pleasure vibrated through her, distracting her from the pain she felt as he took her maiden’s gift, stretching her to the limit until he was fully inside her. She felt full, overstuffed as he rocked gently against the cradle of her thighs, she felt wonderful. 

“Oh” she cried out as he stroked something deep within her, her muscles flexing around him, forcing a groan from her husbands lips. “Gods, Stannis….” she gasped. 

“You’re so fucking tight” he growled, swearing in front of her for the first time. His control, though legendary in battle and society, was crumbling at the touch of his wife’s touch. 

“I’m so full” she sighed, his thrusts increasing in pace until he was rutting into her with grunts and groans. His midnight eyes were ablaze with passion, unbridled as she’d never seen him before. It was intoxicating, knowing that she had reduced this reserved, stoic man so such passion. As she watched him, alternating between his face and where his cock was plunging into her, she felt the tingling return, stronger than before. Any pain she had felt had fallen into pleasure now as he loved her.

“Yes” he encouraged her, feeling her inner muscles flutter around him as he reached between them to stroke her bundle of nerves. “That’s a good girl, come on my cock.”

“Stannis ...oh...gods” she screamed as it hit her, her core clenching around him like a velvet fist. His pace held steady as he pistoned into her several more times before slamming balls deep and roaring his pleasure as he filled her in long heated jets. 

He felt as if he came forever, his body filling her until it overflowed, pouring onto the counterpane beneath them, a sight that renewed his desire. He lay beside her, both of them panting and flush, her smile simply radiant as she watched him. 

“That was incredible…” she sighed. 

“I didn’t hurt you?” he frowned slightly, knowing he had lost control near the end, and was rather rough with her. 

“No, it was perfect” she blushed then, rolling toward him to gently kiss his lips. “I love you, husband.”

“And I you, wife” he pulled her close, dragging the sheets over their cooling bodies. She snuggled against his side, fitting beneath his arm as if she was born to be there, fiery curls falling over his chest. 

“Stannis” she whispered softly.

“Hmm?”

“When can we do that again?” she asked, looking shyly up at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	7. Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrapping up, and more smut *drinks wine* Let's go!

Sansa woke the way she did every morning since she married, with a languid pleasure thrumming through her body, a little sore and a little sticky. They’d been married a moon’s turn now, and she couldn’t remember ever being happier. 

After a week secluded away from the world, lost in the bliss of each other, they packed for Dragonstone, the three younger Stark children excited to be joining them on their journey. The estate was larger than she’d ever imagined, even more so than Winterfell, with its sprawling Gothic Mansion set along the rocky cliffs and the beautiful black sand beaches. It was wonderful. Bran and Rickon immediately set about exploring the grounds, while Arya made a straight path to the balconies where she could see the docks and the ships. She had exacted a promise from Stannis to teach her to sail, and she could hardly wait to learn at the Admiral’s side. 

Sansa fell in love with her new home, especially the gallery, where the family portraits were hung. She learned there that Stannis was the image of his grandfather, for whom he was named and that his mother, Cassana had been quite beautiful. Soon, he’d promised, her painting would join his, forever remembered as his beloved wife. 

A month into their stay, the King arrived for a brief visit. He himself venturing on to Storm’s End for a summer stay. Sansa greeted him before being called away by the departing children, all 3 were going riding with Davos and his two sons today. With a smile she left Stannis to talk with his brother. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure” Stannis asked, sitting in his study with his brother. 

“Can a brother not stop to say hello?” Robert laughed. “Marriage suits you” he mused. 

“Sansa suits me” Stannis reasoned. And that was the truth, no other woman would do. 

“When I told you to marry, I didn’t realize you would take the most beautiful woman in the ton off the market” Robert chuckled. 

“I am very fortunate” Stannis agreed. 

“Hopefully she takes after her mother” Robert spoke frankly. “I’m going to Storm’s End to deal with Renly.”

“I do not follow” Stannis’ brow knitted in confusion. 

“He’s moved in with Loras Tyrell” Robert said and Stannis’ eyes went wide. 

“Ah, I see” Stannis nodded. 

“So your second son will inherit Storm’s End as no children will be sired by your brother” Robert explained. 

“What of Tommen?” Stannis asked. 

“He’s to inherit Casterly Rock” Robert replied, speaking of his own second son. “So hopefully you’re doing your duty to that pretty wife of yours.”

As if bidden he saw his beautiful wife at that very moment, walking through the hall, giving him a very sinful wink as she made her way to the garden. Gods, she was a vixen and he was the luckiest man on the planet. 

“Of course, you will attend the Yule Ball in a few months, yes?” Robert prompted, drawing Stannis’ attention back to the conversation at hand. 

“If we must” Stannis replied. 

“I insist” Robert smiled. 

“Then we’d be delighted” Stannis most certainly was not delighted. 

“Right then, I am off to Storm’s End” Robert stood and made his way back to his carriage. “I shall see you at the Yule.”

“Travel Safe” Stannis bid him farewell and as soon as the carriage was underway, he was headed to the garden. Rounding the side of the house and the arbor, he frowned at not seeing her until he felt her hands grab his lapels and pull him under the arbor and into the overgrown, shady corner. 

“Husband” she purred, pulling him closely against her. 

“Wife” he growled, claiming her lips with his own. He was grateful the children were out riding with Davos, and they were hidden away from prying eyes as they were both wild with lust, insatiable. 

Moving so her back was to the trellis, he allowed his hands to roam her body while she delved into his breeches, stroking his cock in long steady strokes. Following her lead, and overcome with need, he raised her skirts, groaning anew when he found she wore no smallclothes, just her stockings and garters, her core soaked for him. Grafetul for his strength, he lifted her legs around his waist as she guided him to her core, and with a firm thrust he was seated fully inside her. 

“Stannis” she purred, throwing her head back in pleasure, the bright lavender flowers creating a halo around her fiery hair. “My Stannis.”

“Mine” he gripped her ass firmly in his hands and rocked against her. 

“Yes” she mewled, kissing him with abandon. 

“My wife, mine…” he was mindless with lust and he fucked into her, over and over, her cries rising to meet him. He marvelled as this passionate, lustful vixen he’d married, a vision among the foliage of the arbor. He’d never imagined he would enjoy his matrimonal duties, let alone fuck his Duchess out in the open, but he was wild for her, as she was for him. 

Pounding firmly into her, she clung to his shoulders, screaming out her pleasure against his neck, her inner muscles milking his cock, “A baby” she whispered. “Give me a baby” she begged and her pleas dragged him over the edge, slamming deep within her he cried out his pleasure, coating her inner walls with jet after jet of seed. 

“Oh Gods” she was limp in his arms, softly trailing kisses along his neck. 

He carefully stumbled backwards, sitting on the old wooden bench with her still impaled on his cock, his still hard cock. “My wife wants me to give her a child” he whispered, hands now free to travel her body. 

“Yes” she smiled, rocking on his lap. “I want your baby inside me” she pleaded. “Your child beneath my heart.”

“Well then, I must give her anything she requires” he braced his hands on her hips, helping her to find the rhythm that would pull them both back over the edge. Always a quick learner, soon she was riding him with abandon, the wet squelches of their bodies muffled by her skirts, though if anyone happened by it would be obvious what they were doing. He teased her breasts, deftly unbuttoning the top of her dress so that he could suckle them as she took her pleasure. He learned quickly that she did enjoy such pleasure, and he found he enjoyed indulging her, his lips taking great joy in suckling her nipples. 

“Stannis” she cried out, “Please…”

“Come for me and I’ll fill you, wife” he licked her nipples once more and she screamed, seizing atop him as she came on him once more. 

Always dutiful, he followed right after, pouring into her body, praying that it would take root, quicken in her womb. Fully spent, his limp cock slipped from her body as she lay replete against him, both of them in need of refreshing. 

“I do so love you” she said with a small smile. 

“For which I am a very fortunate man” he kissed her temple. “I love you.”

“We should clean up before the children return” she sighed. 

“If you insist” he teased, helping her to button her dress. Absently, his hand trailed over her womb, flexing over the flesh there. His baby, she wanted, his child. Their child. 

“Do you think…” her words trailed off. 

“If not, it soon will” he promised. “We’ve got two estates to give heirs” he laughed. 

“Two?”

“Dragonstone and Storm’s End, Robert told me our second son will inherit as Renly will not have children,” he explained. 

“Well, then we better do our duty” she gently kissed him. “I can not wait.”

“Temptress” he kissed her, helping to situate her dress before he tucked himself back in his breeches and they made for the house. Yes, he certainly was the luckiest man on the planet.


	8. Part 8 - Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with me, for bearing my terrible smut and my angsty Stansa. I love you all.

He couldn’t help but smile as he watched her, the once foreign action no longer strange to him. He’d been called away to deal with business at the docks, leaving her with her siblings, and it looks as if they tired her out. Not so difficult to do these days. The orange light of sunset made her hair glow like fire, her porcelain skin angelic in the light. She lay on the chaise, a book forgotten on the floor, likely where it had landed when she fell asleep. One hand lay beside her head, the other lay over her stomach, which gave him pause. Surely...of course it was entirely possible she was with child, they’ve been quite dedicated in their ‘duty’. And she was young, fertile….

“Stannis” she mumbled as she awoke, blinking her eyes to clear them. “You’re back.”

“I am only just” he moved to kneel before her. “Are you well?”

“I am perfect” she beamed, slowly sitting up. “I am going to have a baby” she laughed, throwing herself into his arms. 

“Gods” he held her tight, overcome with happiness. “That is wonderful news.”

“I am so happy” she sobbed, clinging to him. “You’ve given me so much, and now, you’ve given me the perfect gift, an addition to our family.”

“I’d give you the world if you asked for it” he kissed her, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. Helping her to stand, she moved his hand over her stomach, feeling the new hardness there. “You are everything good in my life, Sansa” he said softly. “You have brought me so much happiness, so much love.”

“You have done the same for me,” she replied. “I cannot wait to meet our child.”

“Come” he took her hand, “Let’s go tell the others.”

“I’m proud of you” Robert clapped his brother on the back as they stood near the yule tree at the Palace. 

“Oh?” Stannis scoffed, curious where this was going. 

“Though you haven’t announced it yet, it's written on her face, plain as day” Robert motioned to where Sansa stood with Arya, absently stroking her stomach as they talked. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, brother” Stannis said sincerely. “We were going to tell family tonight,” he explained. 

“You’ll be a fine father, as you’ve already been to her siblings” Robert took a long drink from his glass. “Better than me by a long shot.”

“Robert--”

“Well, Tommen and Myrcella are just fine” the king sighed, “Joffrey however…”

“More trouble?” Stannis asked. 

“Nonstop” Robert sighed. “His new wife isn’t enjoying married life a fraction as much as he’s enjoying his whores.”

“Gods” Stannis sighed, thought not the slightest bit sorry. Joffrey deserved to be miserable.

“Takes after me a little too much, I suppose” Robert gave a wry chuckle. “But nonetheless, congratulations. If anyone will be a fantastic mother, it's Catelyn Stark’s girl.”

“Thank you” Stannis shook his brothers hand before returning to Sansa’s side, Rickon following shortly after. Rickon was his little shadow these days. Happy to follow and mirror him at any time, he was in all reality already a father to this little boy. While Arya wished to sail and conquer the seas, Rickon now spoke of taking a commission in the navy and earning a uniform as decorated as ‘Lord Dragons’. 

“Is all well?” Sansa smiled as they approached. 

“Of course,” he kissed her forehead. “You’ve given yourself away” he chuckled, looking to where she had her hands on the soft barely visible swell of their child. In her dress it would not be noticeable at all except that she found her hand often dwelling there. 

“Oh” she blushed. “I didn’t realize I was doing as such.”

“You have been for weeks” Arya noted, with a smirk. Now a keen sailor, she accompanied Stannis on his trips down the shore to deliver supplies and had somehow gotten Davos to teach her about smuggling and sword fighting. He should never have told her that he’d met Davos at sea when he’d run down a smuggler ship holding prisoner the famed Captain Davos Seaworth. He’d saved Davos’ life, and they’d been friends ever since.

“Oh” Sansa smiled. “It is because I am happy, I suppose.”

“There is nothing wrong with being happy” Stannis smiled. “Nothing at all.”

Sansa beamed as her family gathered around, her husband standing with her arm around her as the crisp smell of apple cider filled the air. This moment, surrounded by love and laughter, was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
